User blog:Squibstress/Epithalamium - Chapter 43
Title: Epithalamium Author: Squibstress Rating: MA Genre: Drama, romance Warning/s: Explicit sexual situations; teacher-student relationship (of-age); language, violence Published: 23/05/2017 Disclaimer: All characters, settings and other elements from the Harry Potter franchise belong to J. K. Rowling. Chapter Forty-Three "Yes. I believe I will." Albus and Minerva were awakened by a tapping at the dirty window. Albus rose, slipped on his outer robe, and used his wand to clear the frost from the windowpane. Seeing who their unexpected visitor was, he opened it, and Fawkes fluttered in, angrily shaking the snow off his feathers, obviously put out at having to fly in weather so hostile to his beautiful plumage. "What brings you here, my friend?" Albus asked the phoenix. Fawkes trilled and held out a small roll of parchment that he held in his talons. Albus unrolled it with a frown, which darkened as he read. "What is it?" asked Minerva, sitting up and yawning. "Trouble at the school?" "A bit," he replied, Scourgifying himself to rid his body of the most obvious signs of their activities. "I need to go back for just a little while." When she began to get up, he crossed to her quickly and put a hand on her shoulder. "No, no. This shouldn't take long. Stay here and relax. I'll be back in an hour or so. Please don't leave the room until I return." Minerva was silent for a few moments as he collected and donned the remainder of his clothing and smoothed his hair and beard with a quick spell. "Why am I not to leave the room, Albus," she asked. "Has something happened?" "Nothing serious, my dear. I just want to take up where we left off when I return." He went to the bed and kissed her quickly. "And of course, you daren't risk being seen so soon after I leave." "I can always transform. Nobody—" "No," he said, more sharply than he intended. Making an effort to soften his voice, he said, "Please, just stay here and relax and wait for me. It's only that I have an appointment I seem to have forgotten—I just need to see to it, then I'll be back and we can finish our lovely holiday, hmm?" "All right," she said, settling back against the pillows. Her eyes told him she didn't quite believe his story, but she apparently didn't intend to make an issue of it. As he passed through the bar, Albus was startled to see a group of men he knew to be Death Eaters gathered at a table in the corner. He had the urge to turn around, head back up to where Minerva was waiting, and get her out of there as fast and as far as possible, but he didn't want to alert them—or her—that he had noticed anything amiss. Seeing Aberforth come in from the back, Albus went over to the bar. He leant over to speak into his brother's ear. "It's me, Abe." Aberforth gave a small grunt to indicate that he knew damn well who it was, despite Albus's glamour. "Don't look over, but how long have those men in the back been here?" Albus asked. "'Bout two hours, I reckon." "Don't let them upstairs for any reason." "You hiding stolen Gringotts treasure up there?" Aberforth whispered back. Albus paused a moment before whispering, "No. But Minerva is up there." Aberforth pulled back slightly to look at his brother's disguised face. Albus gave a slight nod. Leaning back toward Albus, Aberforth whispered, "Yeh, all right. They don't go up. Dunno why they would, any road. You want me to toss 'em out?" "No. And I'll be back in a little while. Just keep an eye on them for me until then." Aberforth grunted again and said loudly, "No, I don't have any ladies like that in my bar. If yer lookin' for that kind of thing, you can clear out to Knockturn Alley." "Easy, mate," Albus said. "No 'arm in asking, is there?" He heard one of the Death Eaters give a barking laugh and was reassured that Aberforth's quick cover story had worked. When Albus arrived at the gates to Hogwarts, an agitated Filius Flitwick was waiting for him. "Albus!" said Filius. "I'm so glad Fawkes found you." "I wasn't far away. And Fawkes will always find me. It is part of his magic." As they walked the path back to the castle together, Filius said, "I'm terribly sorry to have interrupted your holiday, but I thought you'd want to know." "You did quite right, my friend. Who saw him?" "Sir Nicholas, actually," said Filius. "Up on the seventh floor, strangely enough, so it naturally aroused his suspicions, and he came to me immediately." "Good man." "I caught up with Riddle on the second floor. I have no idea what he was doing there. He said he wanted to speak to you. I told him you were busy, but he said he'd wait. I didn't think it prudent to let him know you were away from the castle." "Yes, quite right. Where is he now?" "I had him wait in my office." "All right. I think it would be wise to keep the children in their Houses until we know what he's about—how many are still here?" "About twenty-five." "Good. Get the Heads on it. Then send him to me in my office." "What do you think he's doing?" "I don't know. But I intend to find out." ~oOo~ Thirteen minutes later, the expected knock came on Albus's office door. "Enter," he said. The door opened to reveal, as expected, Tom Riddle. Albus noted that Filius had not escorted him from the outer door. Riddle's appearance was noticeably altered from the last time Albus had seen him. His face looked more like an Impressionist painting of the once-handsome young wizard he had been than the visage of a living, breathing man. Riddle's eyes were bloodshot, and although such a sign might have been expected had he been down at the Hog's Head drinking with his followers, Albus was certain that was not the case. What has he done to himself? Albus asked himself, taking care not to give any sign he had noticed the changes. "Good evening, Tom," Albus said, as if he had been expecting this visit all along. "Won't you sit down?" "Thank you," said Riddle, taking his seat. Riddle accepted the drink the Headmaster offered, and they got down to the business at hand. When the two wizards had finished talking, the line had been drawn in the proverbial sand. Riddle had admitted that he was working with Dark Magic and gathering followers, and Dumbledore had let Riddle know he had been watching him and that he intended to stand against him. After the door had shut behind Riddle, Albus slumped slightly in his chair and resisted the urge to drink down the remainder of the wine in the goblet that still sat in front of him. The look Tom had given when he'd scoffed at the older wizard's belief in the power of love chilled Albus more thoroughly than the snow had done. "Nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore." Riddle's words taunted him as he left his office to find Filius. He couldn't help but think it was an allusion to Minerva—a challenge of sorts. His mind flashed on the faces of those men sitting in the Hog's Head—Dolohov, Rosier, Nott, Mulciber—sitting there while Minerva lay just one floor above. Why were they there? Albus quickened his pace. "What did he want, Albus?" asked Filius when Albus found him in his office. "To come to an understanding." "And did you?" "Yes. After a fashion." Albus thought for a few moments. "Filius, I would like you to secure all the passages into the school." "Shall I seal them?" "No, not yet. They have proven useful in emergencies in the past; they may do so again. But I would like to find a way to alert us when they are used. Do you think you can do that?" "Certainly, Albus. There are several charms that I think I can combine that might do the trick." "Good." As Albus hurried down the path to the gates, he chastised himself. Again. I've done it again. Once again, someone he loved was in jeopardy because of a relationship with him. He reached the gates, opening them with a flourish of his wand. By the time the wrought iron had clanged closed behind him, he had only one thought in his head: Get her away. ~oOo~ When Albus stepped back into the room at the Hog's Head, Minerva was shaken by the look on his face. "What is it, Albus?" "Oh, nothing important, my sweet," he said, obviously lying. She decided not to push him; she didn't want to spoil the rest of the afternoon with a quarrel. She couldn't help noticing that he had not undressed again. "I'm afraid, though, that we'd best finish our holiday. Why don't you head back to Charity's, my love," he said too brightly after a few moments, tossing her clothes on the bed too casually. "In fact, it's stopped snowing. Why don't you go see your father? Or perhaps visit your brother in Inverness this week—you haven't seen him in ages." His unusually ham-fisted attempt to get rid of her—not just from the inn, but from Hogsmeade—scared her. "What's going on, why must I bugger off all of a sudden?" "I told you, it's nothing," he answered, a hint of irritation in his voice. She noted the missing endearment. "Albus, please don't treat me like one of the students. I don't—" "Merlin's beard, will you just go, witch!" Once the shock of his raising his voice to her wore off, she ripped the bedclothes down and stood up, facing him full-on. She wanted to give him good look at her nude body before she left. He wouldn't be seeing it again anytime soon, she thought, furious. "As you wish, Headmaster," she said and began to gather up her clothes without another word. She had stepped into her knickers and was tugging up a stocking—laddering it—when she felt his hand on her arm. "I'm sorry for shouting." She brushed him off, then perched her leg on the bed to charm the stocking to stay put. "Minerva, please. I can't bear it if we part in anger." She straightened up, facing him with her hands on her hips. "Then tell me what's happened." He knew she would not relent. He was not accustomed to being interrogated by younger witches and wizards, most of whom were intimidated by his reputation. However, he knew that he would have to become accustomed to answering this witch's questions, no matter how difficult, if he wanted to be with her. "I had a visitor at Hogwarts. Someone I had not hoped to see. And then, downstairs, there were ... Minerva, I cannot talk to you when you're half naked," he said, stalling for time. Briskly she turned, retrieved her brassiere from the bed, stuck her arms through the straps, and fastened the back. "Now. Talk," she said, placing her hands on her hips again. "When I went downstairs, I saw some men in the pub." When he didn't continue, she said, "Yes, well, I believe men have been known to gather in pubs of a Saturday afternoon. Pray, continue." "I recognised some of them as followers of—" He stopped again. This was getting stale. "Followers of what?" she asked, careful to keep the patience in her voice. He didn't want to say, "Tom Riddle". He knew that Riddle had frightened her years ago, and she had told him that he had pestered her when he got out of school, seemingly disappearing when she rebuffed him. He also knew that Riddle was not a man to let his quarry escape easily. Albus had heard disturbing rumours of the things he did to exact revenge on those who slighted him, particularly women. "The Dark Arts," Albus replied instead. It was true enough. "I fear there may be trouble brewing, and I'd rest easier if I knew you were far away when it erupts." She said nothing. Her ability to remain silent was one of her greatest weapons in a fight. "Please, Minerva. Go now, and stay away from here—away from me. I'll tell you why later. I'll come for you. Please." His tone told her that he was deeply concerned about this mysterious "trouble", and she suspected that it had to do with her. She was damned if he could shoo her off without telling her why. "If you'll just tell me what the problem is, I can help. Something is frightening you—I can see that—but we can face it together—" "No, Minerva, it's best if you stay out of it. It isn't safe." "What isn't safe?" He just shook his head. He couldn't tell her. The less she knew about Tom Riddle, the better. If only she would go ... "Albus, please." She looked at him for a moment then said, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying here until you tell me what's happened." "I can't. It's dangerous." "All right," she said, grabbing her other clothes, "I'll go downstairs and find out for myself." "No! I won't have it!" A flash of ambient magic shot through the room and rattled the window in its sash. Minerva stood, staring at the man she loved, understanding they had reached a stalemate. He would not relent. He was too frightened, and that frightened her. She could accede to his wishes and leave, knowing that he would never truly come for her—that he would always push her away in times of stress. She'd been down this road with him before. Or she could defy him—go down into the bar and try to discover what the trouble was. That is, if he allowed her to go. He could fairly easily restrain her with his more powerful magic. If that happened, she thought, their relationship would be forever broken beyond repair. Would he do it? In later years, she would wonder if it was love or cowardice that made her decision. "Fine," she said, almost whispering. "I'll go now. Give me a minute to get dressed and transform." The sudden and terrible paleness of her face and the way her eyes hardened robbed him of any sense of relief that she was going. He forced himself to speak: "When I've sorted this out—when I've made sure everything is safe again, I'll come get you. It won't be long, Minerva. I swear." "A man o' words, and no o' deeds, is like a garden fu' o' weeds," she said, and bent to pull on her other stocking. "You know I can't understand you when you speak Highlands," he said, hoping that his feeble attempt at humour might soften her. She charmed the stocking into place and rounded on him. "It means, Albus, that I don't believe you." Her words stunned him. "I only want to make sure you're safe. It's just for a little while. Please believe me." She was suddenly Medea confronting Jason. "No, Albus Dumbledore, you will not do this to me again! You say, 'only for a little while,' then you'll find another reason to push me away. There will always be a reason it isn't safe for us to be together. Your obsessive belief that you're the victim of some kind of curse-by-proxy is just a convenient excuse to keep your fears locked away rather than having to face them down. Well, this time, I think I'd prefer to leave you to them rather than wait for you to abandon me." He couldn't speak. For the second time in his life, he was utterly unmanned. Her fury spent, Minerva turned to pull on her dress. When she turned back again, searching for her shoes, she was crying. It frightened him in a way that even confronting Gellert Grindelwald had not done. She was not a girl—woman, he corrected himself for the thousandth time—given to weeping. The danger had shifted with the violence of an earthquake. The threat that Riddle and his Death Eaters might be planning to harm her was suddenly matched by the fact that he was losing her—allowing his fears to destroy her trust and her love. He took her by the shoulders and looked into her pooling eyes, willing her to see how much he loved her. "I will come for you. I have no intention of abandoning you," he said. If she had been a Legilimens, she would have seen a dizzying mixture of love, need, and terror inside the great wizard's mind. "My resignation will be on your desk in the morning, Headmaster," she said without breaking. She gently removed his hands from her arms and turned to go. "No!" he cried. The door she had pulled open slammed shut on its own. "Let me go," she said, her face crumpling. "Not until I've said this," he replied. "You're right about me. I am a coward. The idea of you in danger terrifies me. That was why I broke with you just before your graduation, and that's why I've tried to send you away today. I'm a coward, yes. And a fool. But even an old fool like me can learn. Teach me, Minerva. Turnabout is fair play; I helped you learn to transform, now it's your turn to help me. Teach me to be as strong and brave as you are, my Viking warrior queen." "That's a pretty speech, Professor. I only wish I could be certain you meant it," she said. But she made no move to leave. "I do mean it. If you will go, just for tonight, I'll come for you tomorrow, and I'll tell you what's happening." Her face hardened again, and he could see she didn't believe him. He was desperate. He said, "I will not leave you. I will never leave you." She had to believe him. He had to make her believe. She just shook her head. Realising that his life was about to slip away unless he acted, he said, "I hadn't intended to do it like this. I had rather a lovely proposal planned ..." "Albus?" He took her by the shoulders again. "But the best-laid schemes of mice and men oft go awry, if I may borrow a few lines from your one of your countrymen." "An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, for promis'd joy," she whispered as he bent to kiss her, and she realised she was trembling. He murmured against her lips, "Marry me, Minerva." She pulled away and looked at him, searching his face. He repeated, louder, "Marry me." He waited, enduring a silence that seemed to stretch for aeons. "Yes." She spoke with finality, as if affirming it to herself rather than to him. "I believe I will." His heart finally resumed its normal rhythm. It was his turn to tremble as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him while a tiny sliver of time stood still. When she had released his lips, she cocked an eyebrow at him and said, "Viking warrior queen' was a bit much." They both laughed for a moment, and the sense of relief was nearly overwhelming. Then she asked softly, "Will you tell me now what the trouble is? I'll go, if that's what you still want me to do, but can you just tell me why first?" He drew her over to the bed and they sat down on the side of it. "Tom Riddle came to see me today," he said. "Tom? What for?" "Ostensibly, it was to ask for a job, but I think it was really meant as a declaration of war." "What do you mean?" He forced himself to tell her then, all of it—about his suspicions and about Tom's visit. He told her about Mortimer Borgin and Alastor Moody, and some—but not all—of the rumours he had heard about Lord Voldemort and his followers, and the activities they supposedly engaged in. He told her of his worries when he had seen Riddle's followers downstairs. "You can't think they were here because of me. Nobody knows I'm here," she said. "I know. But I was afraid they might find out—Riddle seems to have a way of knowing things he shouldn't." "Yes, I remember," she said. "But what do you think it has to do with me?" "Possibly nothing. But from what you've told me, he was rather obsessed with you, and I don't think he's a man to let bygones be bygones. I'd just feel better if you were not here in case his followers get up to some of their antics. Since it's the holidays, it wouldn't be odd for you to take a few days in Caithness or Inverness, would it?" "No," she allowed. "But what are you going to do?" "Watch. Wait. Intervene, if they act to harm anyone in any way. I cannot control what they do in London or elsewhere, but I won't have it in my backyard." "All right. I'll go see my father and brother for a day or two, if it would make you feel better." "It would. And you can think about what you'd like to do for a wedding," he added with a grin. "Oh, a wedding. I'm not sure I can manage that." "Really?" "All that fuss ... I think I'd rather just marry you in a register office." "Suit yourself, but won't your family object? I should think your father would like to see his daughter married properly." "Maybe," she said vaguely. "It's too much to consider at the moment." "Of course your father will probably hex my bollocks off when he hears about it." "I doubt it. He'll probably just die of shock." "Now that's a cheery thought." "Anyway, I don't want to tell him without you. Why don't you owl when you're finished with whatever you think needs doing here. Then you can come to collect me, and we'll have dinner with my father and grandmother." "If you like," he said. "I do." He kissed her again, then said, "We should go. I'll head down first—make sure everything is all right—then, if you don't hear from me, you can transform and go in, say, ten minutes?" "All right," she agreed, and kissed him again. "Be careful." "And you." Minerva spent the ten minutes trying not to think about everything that had transpired that afternoon. She'd go to her father's, and then she'd think about it tomorrow, when her head was clearer. She debated what to do with her valise, then Shrank it and opened the door. She popped into her tabby form, then took the miniature valise between her teeth and set off through the hallway and down the stairs into the bar area. She was out the door before any of the patrons noticed her. Padding quickly through the snowy lane, intent on getting to Charity's to collect a few things before Apparating to Caithness, she didn't notice the hooded figure hidden in the shadows opposite the inn. ← Back to Chapter 42 On to Chapter 44→ Category:Chapters of Epithalamium